Can't Deny
by librawriter
Summary: A series of drabbles in no particular order. Spock X Nyota.
1. Chapter 1

_AN: I've never done a story comprised of drabbles, so here we go. These are in no particular order. Enjoy! I do not own Star Trek and I am not paid for any of this. As such, scathing or belittling reviews will be promptly deleted. _

**Can't Deny **

She dreams of him, up ahead in the distance, walking among other people—other Starfleet officers and lieutenants and cadets— and calls him over and over again, but he never turns.

Nyota wakes in tears. Frustrated, heartbroken. In reality, it's been three weeks since he ended it.

A few nights later, she has another dream. He opens the door to his home and tells her, "I'll be back" and she sits there, waiting.

He never returns.

Yet another dream finds her trying to get up the stairs to her bedroom where she knows he is there, but every time she tries to climb up to make it to him, _something_ stops her—her foot catches in a crack; her mother calls her to help in the kitchen; she gets caught up chasing after the dog she had a child.

Then one night, her dreams take a turn for the best. She dreams he _is_ there, finally, with her in her dorm room in James Hall.

"Stay here, with me. Please," she murmurs against the soft cotton of his uniform. "I just…I just want to stay right here with you."

In just her dreams, she can feel the realness of his arms tightening around her. "Nyota," he sighs, "you have always been illogical when it comes to you and I."


	2. Chapter 2

2

It's cool and rainy, but her hair has kept up so far, hanging long and straight down her back, shining like glass because she is going out with friends tonight to celebrate the end of another grueling year at Starfleet. They've almost made it. Halfway towards the campus shuttle, she realizes that she's forgotten her PADD charger in the office lab. It takes forever for replacements to come through the mail system, and she knows exactly where it is, curled up neatly behind the projector because the outlet there is hardly ever used.

She punches the code in to the locked rooms, a fresh gust of metal and mechanics hitting her with a scent so familiar she would know it in her sleep. Nyota reaches the small office lab. The door is already opened, and he's there.

"You must have returned for your charger," he says, working from behind the complicated structure of Class Projector 4.

"Oh, yeah, I was gonna tell you the arm of that thing was loose," she says, then, "How'd you know that was my charger?"

It's okay to be a little informal, because she's worked as his research assistant this entire year; they've had lunch together quite a few times, comfortably. She isn't sure what that means yet, the _comfortably._ They weren't dates. Not exactly.

Spock raises obsidian eyes to hers and a bird flutters against her ribs. Dammit. He's not the one, he _can't_ be. She's too popular, too outgoing, it would never work. He's weird. Sexy, she thinks _all_ the time, but weird.

"You are the only cadet who I have given the access codes to this room, and I believe you are the only person I have met who would discover an outlet in such an unlikely location."

"Anyone who's astute would notice its location," she says, laughing lightly.

"You are certainly that, Nyota," he responds. He bends, carefully removes her charger from the outlet, and turns with the device in his outstretched hand.

Their fingers touch accidentally as she takes it from him. He _shocks_ her, literally and figuratively. She gasps, "Ouch!" as she draws back, her fingers stinging. Yet something unexpected happens, quick as a dream—she sees herself, but outside of herself, walking across the quad with her friends. She can see her face, can see herself laughing.

Spock's eyes stretch in alarm. "I-I am deeply sorry. Have I hurt you?"

She gives him a peculiar look, balling her fist up against her stomach. "Wait a minute. What just happened?" she asks him, narrowing her eyes.

He deepens in color, returns to number 4. "I am uncertain of what you mean."

She tucks her charger into her bag, and shakes her head. "I thought I saw…I thought…never mind…" she trails off, awkwardly.

She knows now, but he says nothing. He's clearly embarrassed, so she mumbles a farewell and hurries out.


	3. Chapter 3

3

The water is crashing over the sand, as baby sand crabs crawl over her sandaled feet. The sand and the night sky glitter, and the moon is a perfect white circle high above their heads. There is such beauty in the world around them, but such despair in her world.

"I have thought it through carefully. It would not work," he tells her, hands behind his back.

Why would he bring her here, to a place he knows she loves, to break apart what never really even got started?

"You don't even care," she says, shaking her head. She fights tears. She's not a crier. She's made of sterner stuff. Or so she thought, until that first time they kissed and she fell completely in love with him.

She notices his eyes then, how unhappy they are. "I care, Nyota. I care."


	4. Chapter 4

4

She's just a little tipsy, but not enough that she can't carry a tune. "Let's"—hiccups—"do another one," she says, putting her hand on his shoulder. "Let's…let's make up our own song. We'll call it 'Our Song'."

Spock smiles slightly. "How would we go about a song for us if I have no knowledge of your lyrics?"

"It's called impromptu, Spock. Im-prompt-tu. Now, go on, play something. Anything. I'll start singing," she slurs.

His fingers strum the strings of his lyre. He's ridiculously talented at it, and it's one of several things she loves about him.

"_Yooooouuuuu fillll my heart with gladnessss_," she starts to sing. "_I'm freeeeeee as a bird on yooouurrrr wingsssss…juuuuuusssst saaaaaaay you'lllll love meeeee….forever and ever and ever and everrrrrrr_…"

And then he does something he hardly ever does.

He laughs.


	5. Chapter 5

5

He calls her to come over on March 10th, nearly three months since he told her it wouldn't work between them. She's surprised, but not enough to say no. One thing she knows he doesn't do is play games. Nor does she expect them to have sex, because he's not the type to call her for hookups and besides, they never had sex to begin with. She showers anyway, throws her hair back in a ponytail, pulls on leggings and boots, an over sized sweater. He would probably be turned off by cleavage, and so she's going to stay warm and comfortable because once again, San Francisco is rainy and cool.

They sit across from each other at the small table standing apart from his kitchen area and for a while they say nothing.

"I have been...unhappy," he finally says.

"I doubt it," she mutters.

"Vulcans do not lie, Nyota. You too have been unhappy."

"What makes you think you know what I'm feeling?"

"I am more in tune with your emotions than you think," he responds. "As a scientist, I have built my existence on…astute observation."

"Huh," she says, and leans back in her chair, propping her foot up on the seat.

"Admittedly, I find myself at a loss," he says, spreading his hands flat on the surface of the table, looking at her fully.

She shrugs. "Can't be helped, I guess."

"Would you like dinner?"

He's strange like that. She sucks in her breath, says, "Sure."

He stands and begins the preparations for her favorite, spaghetti.

"So, have you been seeing anyone else?" she asks, watching him cook. Every move effortless, fluid. There are so many things he does well.

"That would be difficult for me, considering my heart has remained with you," he says quietly.

She swallows hard. "You _said_ that night it wouldn't work, that you'd _thought_ about it—"

"I have made only four mistakes in my entire life. My words that night are one of them."

"So you _do_ love me back."

He nods. "I will not deny it."

She comes to stand just under him. "Say it to my face, then. Say it out loud."

His eyes blur with tears she never thought possible. "I do love you, Nyota."


	6. Chapter 6

6

"Have you been with a lot of girls?"

"Eight, when I was in the Academy. None since I was hired as an instructor."

"Only girls?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Hey, I'm just asking."

"Only females. And, as I have the potential to be possessive, I do not wish to inquire about your sexual history."

"Really? You don't want to know about all my dirty little secrets?"

He does not respond, looks almost confused, and she laughs, kisses him, cuddles up under his neck. "I'm _kidding_, Spock," she says, blowing a warm circle of breath against his always feverish skin.

"But guess what?" she whispers.

"I could not possibly," he replies.

"I've never been in love like this," she tells him.

"Nor have I," he says quietly back. "And that is a first for us both."


	7. Chapter 7

7

With Spock, everything is planned. Before they make love, they discuss it. They exchange health verification reports, and Nyota explains that she, like all female cadets enrolled in Starfleet, is taking the required monthly hypo to prevent pregnancy. After careful consideration, they agree it's alright to skip condoms. They agree, also, that it should happen at his quarters, and that she would avoid curfew regulation code lockout by staying overnight until _at least_ six o'clock the next morning, when she would be able to scan herself back into her dorm. They discuss what it would mean to their relationship, especially how seriously he is taking it, that he feels so strongly for her he's willing to break rules. She is too, though her penalties would be far less severe. Still, they agree that they must be careful. They must protect their love.

"I should like your hair to be as it was that day you came back for your charger," he says, almost shyly.

"I didn't know you had a preference," she teases.

"I do not. But that day you returned to the lab, I remember...how beautiful I thought you looked. I was grateful for the projector I was working on so you would not see the tremble in my hands when you entered that room. I had no choice but to admit to myself exactly what effect you had on me that day. When we accidentally touched hands, you saw it, too, the way I thought of you," he confesses.

"So _that's_ what that was! I _knew_ it, somehow, but I couldn't figure out how to ask!" she exclaims. "Was that a mind meld?"

"Yes, a small one. I worried you would find my thoughts intrusive, appalling, so much so that you might never want to come near me again," he says.

"Don't you ever think that," she coos. Kisses him. "Show me how you do it. I want to see how it works."

"It takes time for a proper meld to be established. Your desire is a positive start, but it would require additional training or I could very well injure you, which I will not risk. I will control it when I...touch you. It is necessary until we have deepened our bond."

"Well, goodness. I had no idea being with you could be so complex!"

He is quiet for a moment. "I would be greatly disappointed...but I am of full understanding and acceptance that a relationship of this nature could very possibly be too foreign for one who is not Vulcan. If you desire to find a partner who does not require you to—"

"Spock—" she interrupts, "Listen. I'm coming over Saturday. And I'm spending the night. So get those candles ready."

He listens.

The candles scent the air with plumeria, which mix with the fresh scent of rain on pavement from the slightly opened window of his bedroom. He has prepared a dinner, but she refuses it. They can eat later. She wants him, now.

Their clothing comes off, piece by piece, so that that by the time she lay down on his bed, they are both naked. He pushes himself inside of her, causing her to cry out. His arm slides around her waist, pulling her body even closer. She gasps his name. He kisses her.

It's so good. So, so, so good.

"…._Krol tor...ashalik_…" he whispers in her ear. Their bodies, as one. "_Tu hif throk_…."

"_Ha…Ha…Wani ra yana ro aisha_," she breathes, before her fingers clutch his hair, force his mouth back to hers.

_6 a.m. my ass_, she thinks.

She stays the rest of the weekend.

* * *

_Krol tor, ashalik_- I worship you, my darling

_Tu hif throk_-Give all to me

_Ha_-Yes

_Wani ra yana ro aisha_-I love you


	8. Chapter 8

8

"That was delicious," Nyota says, tucking hair behind her ear. "Perfect choice."

"It was. Thank you for sharing a sample of your selection with me," Spock responds.

"You're very welcome," she smiles, giddy to the core.

They are walking slow as turtles towards the hover bus station, where he will see her off. It's the end of their first official date, dinner at the Greek gyro bar, far from campus so they wouldn't be recognized.

Their arms brush occasionally. She wants to hold his hand but she knows how sensitive Vulcan hands are, so she tucks her arms around herself instead, trying to calm her thumping heart.

There is electricity between them. She can feel it. He must feel it too.

The station has a few waiting patrons, but none that look familiar or interested in them. Nyota stops next to a street light partially hidden from view, leaning against the cool metal, and gazes up at him.

"I had such a great time," she sighs happily. "I don't know why it felt so different tonight when we've eaten together so many times before."

"Perhaps because this meeting was more formal. It is the first time I have seen you in a dress out of regulation," Spock responds. He stands closely to her, but not close enough for a kiss, which is what she wants.

"You're right," she agrees. She motions at herself. "My regulation offensive outfit is grateful for the opportunity to get out of my closet, that's for sure."

He gives her one of his rare smiles. "I am grateful for the opportunity as well. You are always physically appealing, but especially so tonight," he says.

She pulls her long hair over her shoulder, bats her eyes playfully. "You are so very charming, Commander."

His face changes, becoming more serious as he does move closer to her. Her heart races as he reaches up to touch her cheek with gentle fingers. "Here," he says softly, "now, I am Spock."

The hovercraft pulls up swiftly, and people begin to assemble to climb aboard. Nyota doesn't move.

"That's my ride, Spock," she whispers.

"I see." He steps back, but when he does, she steps forward, grabs the front of his sweater, and kisses him on the lips.

He kisses her back.


	9. Chapter 9

9

She wants to quit as his Teaching Assistant after he "dumps" her, but she needs the recommendation if she expects placement on the Enterprise, so she forces herself to tough it out. She's mature enough not to let her personal feelings get in the way, and she's not going to punish him for being honest. He said he'd thought about it, that it wouldn't work and at least he hadn't used her for sex.

It was strange—in a way, the kissing they'd done was even more intimate than lovemaking. Their passion was so intense that the simple motion of their mouths opening and closing together was as exhilarating as she imagined sex with him might be. When he kissed her, he was _all there_, in that moment, body and soul. There was something in the way he would look at her just before his hands found her hips, holding her against his body, or pulling her nearer by her arms.

His chest literally rumbled, like a giant cat. "I apologize if it frightens you. It only means I am pleased," he whispered the second time they had kissed, after attending a classical music concert at a neighboring university.

"No, I love it," she responded, and kissed him harder just so she could hear it again. There _was_ something primal about him, and she sensed it, wanted to experience it, though she could tell also that he was trying to be reserved with her.

She pushed her luck once in his office, daring him to kiss her on school grounds, where they might be caught at any moment, by any passerby. "What are you doing to me?" he breathed as he swept towards her as a tiger might stalk prey. She would be his, if he wanted.

If she closed her eyes, she could still remember the way his right arm slid tightly around her waist, nearly pulling her off her feet as he pressed her against the mahogany bookshelf, tongue in her mouth, the beginning of his erection nudging between her legs...

She tries her best to forget the formal dates, the kisses, all of them. She's grateful her clothes had always remained on, that he was the type to take things slow.

It still hurts her that he didn't want her as badly as she wanted him. She wonders if he's dismissed other women in similar fashion, decided after a few make out sessions that they simply weren't worth the time for anything more. She feels suddenly ashamed, utterly foolish.

"I will need you to cover my afternoon Advanced Phonology course on Thursday," he tells her as he types furiously onto his PADD.

"Alright," she says. She places a stack of PADDs on his desk. "These are graded."

"Thank you," he says.

She nods, sighs and goes to her small work station, shoving things into her bag as she prepares to leave for the afternoon.

Before she goes, she glances at him. She can't help it. They catch eyes, but just as quickly, he looks away, busies himself with his work again.


	10. Chapter 10

10

"Come on, guys, she's gonna need you to keep her steady here," McCoy says, wiping sweat from his brow. "Jesus, they're stronger than I thought!"

"…you…_promised_ me…I wouldn't…feel _shit_…"Nyota hisses through grit teeth as another sharp contraction rips through her. Her babies are coming four weeks early and the labor pains are going to _kill_ her yet.

"I know, darlin', I thought the meds would help. I keep forgetting you're not delivering regular human babies," McCoy huffs. Then, to Spock and Jim, (who's insisted on being present as it's the first birth aboard the Enterprise), he repeated his orders, "I _need_ you to hold her head and her knees. Don't let her lay flat!"

"We're all one big family now, like it or not," Jim chuckles as he grabs Nyota's right leg.

"That's too tight!" she snaps at him.

"Oops. Sorry. Anyway, Spock, don't hold it against me that I've seen your wife in all her glory."

"How are their vitals?" Spock asks, ignoring Jim completely.

"Stable, though she's losing a lot of blood," McCoy states. "The sooner these twins are delivered, the better."

Nyota screams as another contraction tears through her.

"Screaming is only going to make it worse!"

"That's easy for _you_ to say!" Nyota shouts angrily.

"I'm telling you the truth, honey. You've got to push through them. Legs back, let me see if I can do it this time, one of them at least—"

"**_PLEASE HURRY UP AND GET THEM OUT! WHAT THE FUCK IS TAKING SO LONG?_**" she screams.

"First one, here it comes! Oh, shit!" Jim exclaims, and lets go of her knee.

"Hey! Get back here, Captain!" she curses. A powerful wave of pressure hits, and then, she hears it, the tiny wail of a newborn.

"Did…did you catch him? Is he okay?" she gasps. But they are talking and no one answers her. She can feel that she's not done yet. "Who has my baby? Did you let him hit the floor? Jim, you bastard!"

"Stop bitching, I got him, I got him!"

"Nyota, keep calm. Your performance so far has been most admirable. Mother...would be proud." Spock's voice wavers slightly at the mention of the late Amanda.

"Number two, I've got it by the head, hold on…hold on…here we go…it's a girl!"

"Doctor, please, allow _me_ to be the first to hold my daughter."

"With pleasure, Spock. Here you are. Jesus Christ, what a day! What a day! Great job, guys!"

The room erupts into cheers and a flurry of activity begins as the nurses begin to assist in the after care. McCoy appears briefly from between Nyota's legs, covered in green and red fluids. "Congratulations to the Mr. and Mrs. And, by the way, I've never seen a pair of healthier twins."

A laughing Jim holds up her tiny son, and Spock cradles her little girl, unmistakably mesmerized at the tiny, light brown baby in his arms with a head full of curly black hair. Both babies were squalling, tiny arms and legs flailing.

It's a scene Nyota will remember the rest of her life.


	11. Chapter 11

11

"Father liked you," Spock says softly, stroking her hair as they watch the waves from the pier. "He approved greatly."

"That's good to know. I liked him too. He's more serious than you, but there was something very noble about him."

They held each other in silence for some time.

"I feel such remorse that Mother did not get the chance to see the way things have turned out. I can see the way she would have fought to contain her smile meeting you. She knew I could never love my arranged bride. I believe it is one reason she encouraged me to join Starfleet. I feel she secretly hoped I would have the opportunity to meet my true life partner, a woman that I would choose for myself," Spock tells her.

"Life partner?" Nyota says, sitting up to look him in the face. Her heart skips a beat.

Spock's hands drop to his side, as his cheeks flush. "Forgive me," he says, blinking. "I was under the assumption you knew of my intention once we consummated our relationship—"

She breaks into a smile as something in her soul takes flight. "What assumption? What intentions?"

"You mock me, Nyota."

"No," she laughs joyously, throwing her arms around his neck as best she can from their side by side seating. "I want to know if you're saying what I _think_ you're saying!"

"My intention has always been for you and I to commit ourselves to one another in an official ceremony that would unite us as husband and wife. If I were human, I might go so far as to say that for me, it was love at first sight."


	12. Chapter 12

12

Nyota hurries to keep up with the rapid pace of her instructor, Dr. Savat. He's quick to be so short and squat; still, he's one of Nyota's favorite teachers at Starfleet and he's always gone out of his way to assist her in her training since she's come to Starfleet Academy. He's been that way since he discovered her personal goal to become a communications officer. It had been his first career, but he'd been wounded on one of the missions, leaving him completely deaf in his right ear.

"He's really rigid...you know...got the reputation of being a hard ass, excuse my French. Most students fail his classes at least once, but you won't need to take his courses. You should really add just a few more research credits from the computer science department to your transcript, and a recommendation from Commander Spock would almost guarantee you placement on one of the top star ships. Here we are. Let me do the talking. And don't shake his hand. Vulcans don't like to be touched," Dr. Savat says.

"Yes, Sir," Nyota says, feeling a hint of nerves twisting in her stomach as they arrived in front of a closed office door. The neat font outside reads **_Commander Spock, Instructor._ **

Dr. Savat wastes no time knocking, his chubby fist aggressive on the glass window of the door.

"It is unlocked," a voice inside says.

The man sitting inside the warm office is nothing like what Nyota expects to see. Absolutely nothing. It never registers with her that he might be so..._young_. Not only is he young, but he is strikingly handsome, so much so that when he raises his eyes to her own, her heart skips a beat. Had she been any lighter in skin tone, her blush would have been visible. She fights the quickening of breath by holding her head a little higher, giving as haughty an air as she can.

"Forgive our disturbing you. We won't take too much of your time. Might I introduce Cadet Nyota Uhura, the student I emailed you about last week? Surely you remember?"

"There is little I forget, Dr. Savat."

Dr. Savat chuckles. "Yes, of course. Well, I wanted you to meet her in person."

The Commander nods at her, and she does the same in return as Dr. Savat presses him, "You've already seen her transcripts, I gather?"

The Vulcan pushes himself back from his desk and walks over to them, standing just before them, both hands behind his back.

"I have, and I am afraid you have wasted your time. As I stated the first several times you mentioned Cadet Uhura, Dr. Savat, my course load is full. The semester has already begun, and even if she made perfect scores on every remaining exam in Advanced Phonology, she would still be unable to obtain marks high enough to meet the academic requirements of one hoping to earn credits towards a career in Xenolinguistics, particularly if it is aboard a ship that will be taking its first flight the summer she graduates."

He _has_ studied her file. He knows about the Enterprise. She's impressed.

"That's just it, Commander. She's exempted _out_ of Phonology, all levels. Her placement tests are off the charts, in fact. She came to Starfleet a polyglot. I'm telling you, she's brilliant. She's determined. She has practically everything she needs to get on board any top star ship except a semester, maybe two, of computer based research. She needs an independent study from a teacher who will challenge her, beyond what I can do."

Spock raises an eyebrow. "Are you suggesting I agree to create a course for one student, whom I do not know, simply because she is, as you say, brilliant? I have known many brilliant Cadets at Starfleet. I make exceptions for no one—"

"_Nash veh aitlu stariben Vuhlkansu ek'ariben. Nash veh bolau T'kehr. Veh vaikau a'rie'mnu e'tum y gol'tor du ekhartausu_," she interjects. (This one would like to speak Vulcan more fluently. This one needs a proficient teacher, and would devote the time to master the beautiful language, as well as assist with your courses.)

The room goes silent for a moment as his eyes burn into hers. She freezes, sure she's fucked up the words or said something totally offensive.

"Who has taught you to speak Vulcan?" Spock asks sharply.

Nyota glances at Dr. Savat before clearing her throat. He'd _told_ her to let him do all the talking. "I…I taught it to myself—"

"Impossible."

"I beg your pardon, Sir, but it's the truth. I've made it a personal challenge to myself to speak as many languages as I can of the nations in our Federation. My roommate is Orion, and I've gotten fairly decent at _it_. I also know the northern and southern dialects of Andorian. I can speak some Romulan as well. When I found out that Starfleet had a teacher who was Vulcan, I was curious about it and I started to learn what I could. Sir."

"How long have you studied?"

Nyota fidgets, but tries to appear confident. "Not long. A few months."

"What other areas of Vulcan language are you familiar with?"

"I can do all formal greetings and introduce myself. I can ask for change and hail a hover cab. If you'd like I can—"

"_Nahp starun sa rom. Nash veh panah tor mnah. K fai,_" he says. (Your fluency thus far is impressive. I will consider your proposal. That is all.)

He leans forward in a slight bow, then returns to his desk.

"Thank you, Commander Spock," Nyota says.

On the way out, Dr. Savat pats her back. "You really surprised him when you spoke to him in his native tongue."

Nyota finally lets out a sigh of relief. "That was so nerve wracking! He didn't crack a smile! I know you told me not to say anything, but I was just trying to show him I was serious about it. He seemed so disinterested. I had to do something!"

"You acted wisely. He'll take you on. If he doesn't, let me know and I'll see what I can do about getting you an internship on Vulcan myself. It is a useful language to have in the Federation. You really proved yourself back there."

"I'm so grateful to you for trying to help me get everything I need. Thank you."

"Nyota," Dr. Savat says, stopping to look at her. "You're going to make a wonderful communications officer one day. If I don't help you achieve that, well, then, I'm not much of a teacher."

* * *

Every Starfleet cadet enrolled in the Academy had a photograph attached to their files. Spock had seen her photograph on the first transcripts Dr. Savat sent to him, and he could remember in passing noting her attractiveness, but he had been uninterested in fulfilling his colleague's wishes to add another student to his already long list of cadets enrolled in his courses.

Her photograph does not do her the justice it could have.

He's mesmerized by her the moment she sets foot in his office. The room suddenly becomes too small, the air becomes too still, even though he has one of the larger offices on the faculty. It had been _her_, filling up his space, starting the magic within that he had not thought possible in all his Vulcan years.

When she started to speak to him in his mother tongue, part of him wanted to weep. He had not heard Vulcan spoken so beautifully by any other human, save his mother. Nyota Uhura had much to learn, but he would be a fool to deny that she was indeed linguistically gifted.

Months, she had said. She had taught herself nearly perfect phrasing in _months_. It was so highly unlikely for most humans, he would not have believed it had he not borne witness personally.

Of course he will allow her to be his research assistant, and mentor her in speaking his native language. He would teach her so well she could be mistaken for Vulcan herself. But he will need time to build restraint against already budding emotions he is having difficulty understanding.

What is it about her? Why, when he tries to meditate his heart and soul into nothingness, is she there? Why does he still smell the scent of amber on her brown skin and still see her dark eyes— alert, blinking back at him, taking him all in? The stirring within that started approximately nine hours and twenty three minutes ago is still making its presence known, has since the moment they were introduced.

He knows, in the most honest and humble part of his heart, that he _must_ see her again, no matter what.

Rising from his meditation mat, he collects his PADD, flips it on and begins to type.

THE END


End file.
